


The Fall Perseverance

by PastaPotatoes



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Brother Feels, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Angst, F/F, F/M, Family Loss, Friendship/Love, Loss of Identity, M/M, Multi, Possibly Unrequited Love, Protective Older Brothers, Talking To Dead People
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-09 23:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19895881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastaPotatoes/pseuds/PastaPotatoes
Summary: (After Hetaoni) Italy learned more than time-reversal while in the Mansion. Once the Mansion was gone, he was more than willing to use it.After the destruction of the Mansion, the Nations had forgotten everything that happened in the Mansion, except Italy.  Italy is the only one that remembers the horrors and loss, but that's alright- he can endure it for them, he can PERSEVERE so they don't have to. Yet, during a world conference held in America, he turns to Mt. Ebott for answers.A year later, a child in a purple and blue striped sweater freed the Monsters had been spotted carrying a journal, equipped with an iron cross.





	The Fall Perseverance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I accidentally posted the chapter, but complete. I elaborated now so confusion wouldn’t occur when reading. Treat this as the original instead. Side note, there are quotes that came directly from Hetaoni. If you didn’t play or watch gameplay, reader beware of spoilers!
> 
> Updates occur Tuesdays and Sundays!

Off. That was the best word to describe Italy, according to Romano. Off, a single, yet accurate, word. Well-there probably  _ were _ more accurate words to describe the abnormally cheerful Italian, but if there were, he refused to use them. 

His brother  _ wasn't _ crazy, he just wasn't. 

Admittedly, if it had been anyone else (especially if that person happens to have been the green-eyed Brit), he wouldn't hesitate to laugh at the very notion that they weren't crazy. To say they weren't crazy, well, was plain stupid. Italy just wasn't that, though. 

The other Nations just wouldn't have gotten that, they wouldn't have shared in that sentiment. If he had bothered to tell them, anyway. Romano wouldn't have put it past the other Nations to not notice the offenses- maybe, if he hadn't been connected, it would've not been as noticeable, or if it was noticeable, it was negligible at best for those that hadn’t known much about him. He could only guess what the other Italian would (or  _ wouldn’t _ ) do with to closer nations, but it was obvious to him. 

They didn't have the connection they had, to say the least. 

Things were missing; replaced with oddities instead. There were no cheerful (annoying) prances anymore. No, they were more calculated and lacked the peppiness as though just missing a step would cause the world itself to break despite how he tried to replicate that cheer. No non stop rambling or nonsense speaking about anything that he did or loved. It was there, but it was truly more nonsensical than something genuine like before. He couldn’t place it, but it was as though his mannerisms, while there, had something taken away from them. 

It was as though he tried holding onto a broken facade, but where this notion came from, he only had an instinct to turn to as an answer. 

Romano didn't know why, but it felt oddly familiar when he saw those glimpses and sounds. It caught him off guard when he saw glimpses of the dreams the Northern half had been having, that odd sense of familiarity. It was a dream, more like a nightmare, of nonsense but it hadn't felt like so.

What made grey alien things- for he couldn't describe them in other way- so damn familiar to him? A purely bizarre sense of deja vu- Romano's brotherly instincts crept itself in at the mere glimpses. 

__ _ "Doesn't that make you frustrated? Huh? I'm your last trophy after all." There was an unfamiliar mix of pure anger and desperation in his words that didn't sound right coming out of his brother's mouth, all directed at a grey alien thing. It gave only a blink on it's emotionless face as an answer as rain poured on his familiar blue army uniform, tainted with smudges of brown with tattered portions. _

__ _ He gave a joyless laugh. "You lost to the guy who's only redeeming feature is his fast feet!" He couldn't see his expression, but at that moment, he didn't want to.  _

Those dreams seemed to break off as soon as the other nation had noticed the intrusion. He acted normal afterwards, but the fatigue was evident, at least to him it was. 

He remembered that day, the very first day of the world conference. Romano had grown tired of waiting for an answer, tried contributing him before entering the conference. Normally, if something had bothered the younger Italian, he would run to him or the potato bastard to rid of whatever bothered him. For whatever to bother him enough to not cause him to turn to one of them, was something in an of itself alarming for the older Italian. "Italy, just what the fuck is going on?" A simple question laced in demand. 

"Eh?" Italy tilted his head, his expression morphed into one of confusion. 

"Don't 'eh' me, you bastard! You know exactly why I'm asking!" There was a brief moment of silence shared between them. He watched as the younger Italian processed the information. 

"Oh, oh! That's what you are asking about!" He just gave another smile that didn't quite reach his eyes after a brief, yet noticed quick widening of his eyes at the sudden question. Romano narrowed his eyes, frowning. "It's just a nightmare, ve! You must really care about me Romano~!" He pulled him into a tight hug, tighter than his usual hugs.

"Chigi! I-I don't, you bastard! Get off me!" He was unconvinced, but he never pressed it further. That sense of offness never faded once when the pair entered the conference, nor at the start of the conference. 

It was clear he wasn’t the only one to notice this, either. He turned to sit in his seat after waving off Italy, until two voices caught his attention. 

Japan and Germany, he noted. The Japanese man had always had an eye for detail; always been good at reading anyone he came across. It was a matter of time before he had seen how off he was. “Do you notice it too?” 

Germany turned to him. He glanced towards Italy before giving a knowing frown, eyes narrowing briefly before answering. “ _ Ja… _ ” Romano hated the German with a passion only an Italian could possess, but the worry, he could tell just from his seat, was evident. The German nodded before continuing. ‘ _Italien_ keeps dozing off.” He looked thoughtfully before the frown returned when he came upon the reason. There was an implication within the tone that the three nations had agreed upon:

He was distancing himself from them. 

Japan's gaze wandered towards Italy before returning to the German once more. He paused, collecting his thoughts before he responded.His words were tainted with an air of worry. "I can't help but think Italy looks like someone who has been standing all alone in a far away place for a very long time." Romano shifted in his seat, unease creeping its way into his heart as he glanced at his brother. Italy’s eyes had widened, shifting between the two nations talking unconsciously before settling uncomfortably on the table in front of him. It wasn’t caught by the other nations due to how fast the sudden shift of emotion was, but Romano did notice it. 

He noticed all of it. 

"Guys, guys, anyone want to hear something  _ scary _ ?" The obnoxious American blurted out from behind Japan. America, to this day,  _ still _ couldn't read the atmosphere. Japan jolted. "Hey, relax dude! It's just me! Ha, you should see the look on your face right now!"

Romano leaned back in his seat in order not to glare at the American. Instead, the German had done it for him. "What is it now, America?!" His voice tried holding itself steady, but the sudden shock on the American made it waver. Romano chucked. 

__ _ Serves him right, bastard. _ He snickered until he noticed Italy starting at him, as though chiding him. He takes before turning away, incredibly bored of the conference already. 

"This isn't the time and place for it-"

"Apparently, there's a Mountain in my country I didn't even know was legendary, can you believe that?" America laughed as he ignored the Brit. "Something, Mt. Ebott? I dunno, dudes. All I know is that no one who climbs it never returns. Sounds kinda spooky, doesn't it?" At this time, Germany had moved towards his seat, his materials forming organized piles for presentation and Japan, being as old as had was, had pardoned himself to do for similar reasons. 

Presentations, that, at the very least, had already begun. Germany was late today. The notion that the most anal nation to exist had been late filled Romano with a joy he didnt expect that day. His eyes wandered, for the umpteenth time, towards his brother without realizing it. 

Apparently, Italy didn't notice it either.

Italy, Romano noted, had been oddly focused on the conversation. He leaned in, almost with the intent to pretend to sleep, but his honey eyes were glued towards the trio. It wasn't much of a surprise that he didn't come prepared, that was an aspect that was at least  _ normal _ , however…

He didn't know, but it the intent was  _ off _ , just like the rest of Italy had been off. 

Britain rolled his eyes. "It really shouldn't be shocking that you haven't heard of it in your own country, but here I am, still shocked." `He shook his head and continued. "Let me guess, there are  _ monsters _ on the mountain?"

"How'd you know?!" 

England rolled his eyes again, frowning. He didn't have the chance to respond as France had decided to interject. "Well,  _ I _ , for one, thought it was good, hononon. "

"Of course you would, you stupid frog!" 

"Ah! Why  _ Angleterre _ , you wound me so!" France backed off with mock hurt, his hands placed on his chest with a gasp. England shot a glare, anger brewing before Germany had intervened on the matter. 

"Quiet, both of you! We are to be acting professionally, do I make myself clear?" Germany's loud, annoyed voice rang out. Hearing no one, he continued. "England, it's time to present your presentation." _..and do not cause a riot while you're at it.  _

He forced his eyes off Italy as he looked towards the clock. A couple more hours of this stupidity. He scoffed as he closed his eyes, his back leaned against the chair.  _ It was going to be a long day. _

He noticed it all, until he stopped himself from looking. It was, during the turmoil that England had inevitably caused, Italy managed to remove himself from the meeting without so much as a word of warning as the keen German's attention was focused on the two older nations arguing and Romano's nodding off. 

It took two days, day three of the world conference, to notice this fatal error. 

When both Germany and Romano noticed the absence of the Northern half, it was already too late. He had been gone, unreachable, for the past hour. None of their searches had given any inkling of clues. None of them were successful. 

Romano naturally yelled at Germany for not watching him, but he couldn't quite shake the accusations that he directed towards Germany off himself, either.

__ _ He won't come back, will he? _ Where had that come from? Still, he didn't try to argue the point that his thoughts had made on the matter. He couldn't even if he had wanted to. Something told him that would be fruitless anyway. 

His brother's absence had reached its peak at day three with no signs of ending. 

It started with a headache that gravitated from the back of his head. It was irritating, but forgettable in other circumstances. In normal circumstances, Romano hadn't needed  _ to _ worry. There wouldn’t need to be. Conferences meant presentations- which, to him, fell into two different categories: “boring as hell” and “stupid as fuck ideas”. It never ceased to amaze him how often either category caused fights. No matter how many conferences he went to, it was always a shitshow and above all else, every single time- he could count on the countries he sat next to being complete and utterly stupid. 

Yes, all the countries near him were complete idiots in normal circumstances. His face started to twist into a scowl as the pain occurred.. Spain should have been chattering to his right while the ever-tired Greece should have snored to his left. Instead, Spain had been quiet the whole time. Whatever sound he had wanted to made would die in his throat before Romano heard it. Greece, well, was Greece. Perhaps nothing could stop the Greek from sleeping. These weren't normal circumstances, of course. 

__ _ You hadn't heard him in a while. _ The quietness, even if Italy's mannerisms were faked, had been noticed among the nations. He glanced back at his phone. There were several calls, but Italy had not answered a single one. 

To say normal circumstances had disappeared, just as fast as his brother had, had been an understatement. 

He lowered his head as a wave of pain, slightly more powerful, but still just as irritating, had hit him. His fingers massaged the area in a vain attempt to soothe the ache, but to no avail. 

None of the usual events had been happening. While attempts at a conference had been made by Germany in particular in an attempt to get back on track, there had been an air of unease amongst the Nations. His stomach twisted as whispers grew louder and louder, growing in intensity with each whisper. He glanced at Spain as the gnaws grew more intense. 

In normal circumstances, he didn't seek aid from his former boss, but these weren't normal circumstances. Spain inched closer to the former colony, but not a word was exchanged. 

"He hasn't returned yet? What gives?" The American wasn't very subtle with his wording, nor quiet. "Did he…?I bet he climbed Mt. Ebott!" Romano rolled his eyes. His brother was a number of things, even as off as he had been, he certainly wasn't that huge of an idiot. 

The voice in his head seemed to disagree on that.  _ He climbed Mt. Ebott on the first day, he had, hadn't he?  _

"This again, America?" The Brit glared before sighing exasperated as he went for a scone. "For the last time, monsters do not exist. Really, do you think Italy would do such a thing?" _..Italy was too much of a coward to climb a mountain to nowhere. Besides, Nations can't die if their country is still around. _ If he wasn't in pain, he would have definitely cursed at him for the implication. In other circumstances, he would've agreed. This was not such a time.

__ _ Italy is not too scared to climb Mt. Ebott. _ The nagging feeling from where his head seemed to ache had spoken once again. He felt as though he couldn't disagree. 

“Hey, monsters  _ do _ exist! They exist more than Flying Mint Bunny!” England bristled at the American’s comment, ready to defend his friend’s existence, but France had interrupted before he could. 

"I agree with _mon cheri_ , hononon. It is far too scary for the likes of Italy." It was a rare day in hell when the two agreed on something. The Frenchman nodded at his own words, a frown forming. "He hasn't been doing too good, perhaps he simply returned to Italy?" France cast his gaze down as the Englishman cursed at him and the American had started rambling about aliens or something, perhaps offering different options. Romano never quite knew what he talked about. The American always had some conspiracy, none was worth the effort to understand though. 

__ _ Still, France did not believe himself when he said that. _ He wished the nagging would stop making reasonable points already. 

"“All of you, get back to the presentation already! Do you not remember why we are here? Get back on schedule! America, you present!”  _ No more talks of nonsense.  _ The annoyance of the German was evident, even if Romano didn’t want to hear the stupid voice of a potato muncher. Despite this, something was wrong with the German, and he wasn’t the only one that had that sentiment. He didn’t agree with the German, but he begrudgingly had in this case. Romano vaguely heard the German shout again as his ears picked up some hastily written speech written by the startled American that ignored the second implication:  _ no more presentations that can’t be replicated. That means no more robots.  _ None of which America caught onto.

“I say let a big superhero robot come in and-“ Stupid, he can practically see Germany’s hand smack against his face despite never looking at the German. 

America, with his blasting voice, seemed to proclaim something about climate change and robots- or maybe it was something a bit different. He tried to ignore the “stupid as fuck” category as best he could. He heard shouts back and forth as America seemed to argue his point. Most likely arguing with England- who then argues with France. His scowl deepens as he closes his eyes.

Any other day, he would be able to ignore the conference- sneak away. It was understandable that he would have a headache when surrounded by them. Common, in fact. Yet..

“¿Qué pasa, mi tomate?” He picked his head up at the sound of Spain’s voice. Romano’s eyes briefly flickers between the desk and Spain before sighing as the presentation rambled forward. If he wasn't as close to the Nation, he wouldn't have noticed he was there.  _ You haven't found him yet, have you? _ He didn't bother hearing that implication. 

A nagging voice in his head, seemingly coming from the same area his headache started from, had become pessimistic, persistent impact on him. His heart stirred again as he stared before resting on an empty chair- a chair that wouldn’t normally be empty. A feeling of dread crept in before he swallowed.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t ignore the other implications anymore. Veneziano was many things- stupid, idiotic, but had never missed a conference without prior notice. Or if he had, he would stay within the area in question.

This was not the case, and has not been for a while. 

"Still nothing" It had been a simplistic answer that didn't convince the other nation nonetheless. 

"I was referring to your head,  _ amigo _ ." Romano blinked, confusion etched in his features before the pain had pulsed in his head once more. The bastard had noticed his headache. 

“Tch, why do you care? It's just a headache, bastard!” His eyes stayed on the chair as the headache worsened even more, spreading to his temples. Spain’s gaze followed his before softening. It clicked before Romano knew it. Romano flinched as the pulse of pain had occurred once more before turning back towards Spain. Romano didn't bother, nor did he have the energy to, hide his dread. He softened before replying further. “My stupid brother never picked up the damn phone. For fucks sake, I’ve been trying to get a hold of him.”

“Eh?” He tilted his head at that. “Ita-chan hasn’t been answering, either?” Romano shook his head, annoyed. Italy had managed to not answer  _ anyone's _ calls. He repressed a scoff. 

“Of course not! Why would I tell you otherwise if he had, tomato bastard?” Spain pondered this for a moment, letting Romano continue. “It’s just too fucking weird.”

Spain frowned, noting Romano’s answer. He knew they were connected, had known for a very long time. Romano, of course, would never tell him to  _ what _ degree. “It has been odd, no?”  _ He has been odd, and it concerns me.  _

“Fuck off!” Romano glared at the Spaniard before his eyes unconsciously wandered back onto the empty seat. His frown softened as his stomach churned as the thoughts started to build. Spain was accurate, but he didn't want that to be obvious. He didn’t know what was causing it, as no one was able to get the nation to open up, but it was natural, off. It was the most not Italy thing you can do. The dread inside him worsened just as much as the headache had itself. 

He was scared, so unbelievably scared that it caused him to shake in his seat. It was pure, cold fear running down his back, his limbs and crept its way into his heart and he couldn't understand it. 

__ _ Something is going to happen. _ Romano felt the chill proclaim.  _ Nations might have the ability to die on Mount Ebott.  _ He chewed his cheek. It was a ridiculous idea, monsters, Ebott. None of those things sounded real. They sounded as fake as England's flying mint bunny nonsense he spouted. He couldn't prove it wrong despite the ridiculousness. Something made it accurate. He felt that chill again. 

_ Veneziano, can’t you just tell me what’s wrong? _

“Connection, _mi Tomate_?” Romano’s attention was caught again as he heard the Spaniard speak. He reached out to Romano, but he waved him off as he shuddered from the pain gaining strength with each pulse. 

“So what?” He disliked the taste of his own words. “I’m not sure what that bastard’s doing, whatever it is, he should fucking end it already.” He rubbed his head, the pain subsiding for a brief moment before he heard something that caused the contents of his stomach to rise just a bit.

**_You don’t have to fight. You don’t have to-_ ** His he clenched his stomach in recognition as cold crept in and acid welled up in his throat. Pure begs, pleads that weren’t from simple cowardice like normal. 

Terror. He pleaded from terror. The thought of him being that terrified, at his core, are at him. 

“Romano?” Spain’s words fell on deaf ears as his brother’s voice flooded them with desperate pleas and begs. He shook harder, as he blinked away the tears he didn't know he was starting to shed. "Are you alright?¿Qué pasa, mi tomate?”

"Something's wrong. Something's wrong." His breathing quicker with each word as he looked past Spain. "He's not right, he's terrified. No, that's not right. He's beyond terrified." Spain's eyes widened at the answer before Romano roughly held onto him, trembling with each phrase. 

"He's fucking beyond terrified." Spain looked towards Germany, as if pleading for aid, but the German was mortified. His face paler than normal, he did not make a move towards the two nations. None of the others had as alarm had quickly filled each nation. Only Spain and, to some extent the sleeping Greece, seemed to be impervious. 

**_Per favore fermati! Per favore fermata! Per favore-_ **

His heart raced, panic creeping in as the headache worsened to behind his eyes. He brought his arms up in unconsciously in defense as the pain, the terror had filled every nook and cranny in his being. The feeling of Spain turning him and shaking him in attempt to wake him from his increasing panic and did not register as his vision blurred and his breathing started to quicken. The pain behind his eyes caused him to close them to end the pulses that kept occurring.

"What's going on?" America. He vaguely heard America. 

"They have a connection-" Spain propped Romano as he shook. He didn't hear the explanation. 

Buttercups. His brother. A rust brown colored journal. Purple Heart. His eyes widened as glimpses became clearer. He couldn't piece the fumbled images together before he saw that Italy was running- or trying to get away. Buttercups had spun around, moved as fast Italy himself. He saw Italy's fingers wrapped around a rust colored, perhaps once dark brown journal, gripping it with such force that his knuckles turned white as a bright purple heart lit up his chest. There must as been unspoken words, as the endless bombardment of whatever he ran from seemed to cease for a brief moment before picking up with a ferocity he hadn't seen in years. 

"Romano, can you hear me?" No, not over the pleas and the harshness of Italy's boots on the ground as he dodged and ran. 

Then he saw it: a burst of bright red. Then, he felt. what the burst of red was. 

Fire. That's what the bright red burst had been. Fire was flung at him and he couldn't seem to dodge it. The bright flames looked as though it consumed him. Pain from the headache was overshadowed by his arms and chest burning. His very being felt as though a fire had been raging on the very surface of his skin. His breath hitched as his lungs brought in the very fire he wanted to avoid. He felt his legs collapse from under him in spite of Spain propping him up. 

"He's burning up!" He certainly felt hotter, but he knew he hadn't run a fever. 

His screams were rushing in his head. Unrelenting screams. "He- fire. Fire!" He couldn't even hear his own screams over his heartbeat and Italy's. He didn’t even feel himself push past the other nations as the fire had engulfed him despite not being hit with fire himself, past Spain as he reached for his phone. Tears blurred his vision clouded as his fingers trembled, aches welling up in them as he dialed. 

“Italy? Italy? Veneziano?” His heart kept pounding as he never answered. The younger Italian's thoughts started to become an unregulated jumbled mixture of Italian and English. 

_ Please, answer me damn it! Veneziano, we’re both Italy, you need to tell me- _

**_Fa così male_ ** . Everything stopped for Romano. It was unrecognizable ache that sounded like a cross between wounded dog and a child.It wasn’t a tone he heard often from his normally cheerful brother. It was reminiscent of their days as colonies. Reminiscent of the cries of war and the pain of loss, reminding him of that bastard he dared not name. 

It chilled his very bones.

The bright red flashes continued as something entered the glimpses that gave him an idea of what, or who, caused it. A man-person-creature, he didn't see enough of him, to make a distinction if he cared to, had worn golden armor wrapped in a cloak of purple. He had inched closer to his brother as Romano fell to his knees. By the time Romano spoke, he had been towering over him. 

"Get away from him!" He felt his voice scream as arms wrapped around him. He pushed, shoved, but did not have the strength to rid him of the arms.  _ Italy, answer me! Damn it, please answer me!  _ He didn’t know if it was spoken aloud or to just his brother, his ears rang in such a way that he couldn't make out the difference. He didn't care, though.

He was cornered and the book had been gone by another glimpse as Romano struggled. Italy must have spoken, but his thoughts were so jumbled that he couldn't begin to understand the context or pin what had been said to begin with. 

The bright red flames had begun to cease and as he saw his brother's hurt arms from what the glimpses allowed. His weight lifted from his hands and they no longer bothered to be moved anymore. There was a purple shine that illuminated from his chest that had begun to brighten as he huddled despite the circumstances it was in. 

The aggressor lifted his arm, causing the younger Italian to flinch. Before it can be processed, he felt his voice grow hoarse as he screamed, both in Italian and English, pleads. Pleads to just let his brother go, for his brother to get the strength to do anything but stay huddled in that corner. Italy’s voice whimpered, trembling as his breathing grew rapid. He saw him look up at the aggressor, but his expression- other than the words that couldn't be made out, was unknown. 

_ Ti Amo _ .

It was a simple phrase heard in jumbled sentences that ran together, but that's what made it worse for him. His mouth felt acidic as his face grew paler, his eyes locked on the glimpse that he had that made his mouth run dry and his heart fall. He didn't notice the blood that he had managed to draw from Spain. He had clawed the other country without realizing it. 

A big, bright red trident had found its way into the other's white hands. That same trident had found itself plunged into the chest of the former representative of Northern Italy. 

It was at that very moment, he felt as though a cable had been snapped. His connection had been severed. A vague unwanted memory of a nightmare Italy had, had made it known before Romano's world twirled into darkness from the strain. 

__ _ "Hey Romano, can you fill in for me at work tomorrow? As the edges of his vision had turned black, he managed to Italy holding his phone. He couldn't place the location.  _

__ _ "Huh?" _

__ _ "Tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and forever and ever... can you?" Italy's voice was strained, even then as he looked off in the distance. He moved the move away from his ear a little as the pause made way for the reply.  _

__ _ "It's your job. Just get your ass back here and fucking take care of it yourself!"  _

There was an odd sense of familiarity mixed with something short of pride when he first met with that dream. While he didn't know where that deja vu came from, he knew one thing was certain.

__ _ Heh, you were right all along, Veneziano. Looks like I will have to fill for you at work.  _

__ _ Meanwhile, in the Underground, the King of Monsters wept as collected from his latest victim, a bright purple soul from the tatters of its original body. _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “¿Qué pasa, mi tomate?”- What’s wrong, my tomato?  
> “Per favore fermati”- Please Stop  
> Angleterre- England  
> Mon Cheri- Honey  
> Ja-Yes  
> Fa così male- It hurts a lot!  
> Italien- Italy

**Author's Note:**

> “¿Qué pasa, mi tomate- "What's wrong, my Tomato?"  
> "Per favore fermati" -Please stop!  
> "Fa così male"- It hurts so much  
> "Ti amo" I love you


End file.
